


Nasty thing, the underground.

by haventacluewhatimdoing



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Mrs. Hudson, Banter, Canon Divergence - The Reichenbach Fall, Crossover, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Thinks They're Together, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, I genuinely love mrs hudson so much, It don't exist it didn't happen i did not see it, M/M, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, My First Work in This Fandom, She's epic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haventacluewhatimdoing/pseuds/haventacluewhatimdoing
Summary: A knock on the door made all three of the residents look at each other in surprise. Anyone who knew anything would know that the door to 221 Baker Street was always open, or at least they'd try to push it first before knocking."Are you two expecting any visitors?"ORSomeone turns up at 221 Baker Street in need of some help. But little did John know that the visitor would help him in return.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Nasty thing, the underground.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I recently watched Sherlock for the first time, I cannot believe what I have missed out on! Well, I'm here now.
> 
> I just had Graham meeting John stuck in my head, and I pulled an all nighter last night, so this is what my sleep deprived brain came up with. Enjoy!

"Sherlock, dear, would you please stop shooting my wall?" Mrs Hudson asked, hands on her hips at the doorway. Sherlock groaned, flopping onto his back and throwing the gun on the floor (not before putting the safety on - he wasn't an idiot).  
"I'm bored," he complained, wrapping his dressing gown around him.  
"I can tell, love. Tea?" Sherlock didn't reply, simply opting to stare at the ceiling. There was some mould growing in the corner, he needed to get John to deal with that.

Speak of the devil, the aforementioned man appeared in the doorway, holding two shopping bags. Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow at him before falling back against the sofa.  
"Nice to see you too," John shook his head, depositing the groceries on the kitchen table.

A knock on the door made all three of the residents look at each other in surprise. Anyone who knew anything would know that the door to 221 Baker Street was always open, or at least they'd try to push it first before knocking.  
"Are you two expecting any visitors?" Mrs Hudson asked.  
"Well there's no clients lined up, and they'd just come in anyway." John frowned and made his way briskly down the stairs.

Opening the door, he found a man, in his late 50s, looking slightly bewildered.  
"Can I help you?" John asked tentatively.  
"Ah, yeah, actually I've just lost my mate, I was wondering if I could borrow a phone?" John eyed the man suspiciously - who doesn't carry a phone with them in 2018, after all? But studying him once again, the man didn't seem to be acting. John ushered him in and closed the door.

"Sherlock, make sure you're decent." John yelled up the stairs.  
"When am I not," a voice replied, making John shake his head. Now wasn't the time to bring up the Buckingham Palace incident.  
"Is it a client, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked as the man and John stepped into the flat.  
"No, he just needs to borrow a phone." John looked pointedly at Sherlock, who shrugged in response.  
"Well you had my phone last. Why you can't use your own I don't know."

Five minutes later, and with a lot of dramatics from Sherlock, John had his phone in his hand. During this kerfuffle, he had learnt that the man's name was Graham, he was a retired bus driver and he'd been separated from his friend on the tube.  
"Nasty thing, the underground. Apparently there's a type of mosquito that's only found on it, nowhere else in the world." Mrs Hudson grimaced, handing Graham a cup of tea.  
"You've been watching too much daytime TV, Mrs H." Sherlock said deadpan, not looking up from his paper.  
"It's better than shooting the wall," Mrs Hudson waved her hand at the wall, before making her way down the stairs.

"Is he always like that?" Graham asked John quietly. The latter chuckled.  
"Yep."

~☆~☆~☆~ 

It took them five tries for the person at the other end of the phone to pick up, but finally a voice was yelling through the speaker.  
"Graham? That you?"  
"Yeah, yeah, it's me son. You with the Doc?"  
"Yeah, Yaz too. Where did you go?"  
"I dunno, got off at the wrong stop on the tube, something." Loud blasts travelled through the speakers, making John hole his phone further away from them.  
"You lot alright?" Graham asked, worry crossing his face.  
"Um, not really. Some rhino thing blasting lasers at us. ( _A Judoon!_ ) Yeah, that."  
"Alright, well, stay safe son."  
"Will do gramps."  
"And when you're done destroying the spoon thing, drop by Baker Street will you?"  
"Sure thing. I should probably go now, not wanting to get shot and all."  
"Okay son. See you in a bit."

Graham nodded at him and John pressed the end call button. The older man looked up at him and then over at Sherlock, who had steepled his hands together under his chin.  
"Um, he won't be talking for... well, a while. But, uh, I have... questions." John explained.  
"I ain't surprised. Might take a while though." Graham picked up his cup of tea and sat down in what was nominally Sherlock's armchair. John raised an eyebrow but didn't question it - he'd seen much worse manners from his flatmate.

"Alright, spill."

~☆~☆~☆~ 

Hours later, after an intense interrogation from Sherlock and apologies from John, Mrs Hudson walked into the flat.  
"You still here? I thought your friends would have found you by now. We're not exactly inconspicuous." Mrs Hudson smiled, placing a packet of biscuits on the coffee table.

"Yeah, they got... caught up in, stuff. They'll be here soon." Graham shrugged, opening the packet and biting into a custard cream.  
"So," he said after finishing the biscuit, "you basically know my whole life story now, but what about you two? How long have you been together?"

John sputtered, almost spilling tea everywhere, while Sherlock didn't even bat an eyelid.  
"I... we're not..." John stuttered in a panic.  
"Oh, don't worry about them, love. Still a bit embarrassed, I don't know why, they've been together as long as I've known them." Mrs Hudson patted Graham on the shoulder before making her way down the stairs.

"We're... we're not together." John managed to get out, coughing. Graham nodded slowly, the glint in his eye giving something away.  
"Sure, whatever you say."

~☆~☆~☆~ 

It was dark by the time Graham's friends had arrived at Baker Street. Mrs Hudson had invited them in, and they looked so worn out that John took pity on them and offered to order pizza in for everyone. This snapped Sherlock out of his mind palace - he had a lot of new information to file away - if only to scrunch his nose up in disgust. It was quite adorable, if John was honest, and oh no he wasn't going down that path again.

Having cleared the groceries and coaxed (read: bullied) Sherlock into putting his science kit away, the mismatched group sat around the dining table, digging into the pizza. John practically shoved a piece into Sherlock's mouth, causing snorts from Ryan and Yaz.  
"You need to eat."  
"Eating's boring." John looked at him seriously, and Sherlock relented, biting the end off the slice of pizza. They maintained eye contact, Sherlock dropping his gaze momentarily to John's lips, and...

"Are those custard creams??"

Moment broken, John sighed, turning his attention back to his mound of food on his own plate.

~☆~☆~☆~ 

"You really must visit again soon. It was lovely to see new faces." Mrs Hudson smiled, hugging each of the visitors in turn.  
"We'll certainly try," the woman, the Doctor she called herself, smiled.

Graham turned to John and gestured for him to come over for a moment. John looked confused but complied anyway.  
"Look, I know you think I'm nuts, but I've seen the way he looks at you, and honestly, if you ain't together already, you really should be." John widened his eyes, his usual reply dying on his tongue. Graham clapped him on the shoulder.  
"Just tell him, there's a good lad." He smiled before making his way back to the group.

~☆~☆~☆~ 

Sherlock was standing by the window when John returned to the flat. He took a deep breath, before standing behind Sherlock, closer than necessary, and looked over his shoulder at the scene outside. He heard the younger man's breath hitch slightly, and for the first time in his life John thought that maybe there was something there.

"I don't recognise that police box," John frowned, nudging Sherlock towards the window. His frown deepened when he saw their newly found friends entering it. He couldn't see how an old police box was going to help them get back to their spaceship transport thing Graham had been banging on about.

He turned back to mention as much to Sherlock when he found the man staring at him, his face incredibly close.  
"John, I..." John carefully brought a hand up to the younger man's face, cradling it gently, stroking his thumb across his cheekbone.  
"May I kiss you, Sherlock?" He whispered impossibly quietly.  
"Yes."

Their lips met, careful and tender. Sherlock flailed for a moment, unsure of where to put his hands, before deciding to wrap his arms gently around John's waist. The latter ran his hands through Sherlock's hair, teasing it out of its messy yet pristine state.

It was extremely chaste, but as they pulled away slowly John felt like his whole body was on fire - and in a good way, not like being-stuck-in-a-bonfire-on-firework-night on fire. Sherlock smiled softly at him, a genuine smile saved only for him, and John couldn't help but well up. This moment had been eight years in the making.

"Where did the police box go?"

**Author's Note:**

> The mosquito thing is true, I saw it on QI.
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day :)


End file.
